


deep water (a little deeper than you thought)

by RoseofWinterfell



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, JJ is a pirate captain and that is very important, Mentions of Rape, Pirate AU, Prostitution, Some Fluff, and slavery, black sails au, cause that how i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseofWinterfell/pseuds/RoseofWinterfell
Summary: It has been four months since he and his crew last made port on Kildare. She doesn’t know where they’ve gone, if they will return. Sometimes she hopes they don’t. Maybe they’ve succumbed to the sea, and she no longer has to worry about him stealing her away like some precious prize. Sometimes, the mere thought of never seeing him again leaves her with an ache in her chest that she can’t ignore.***Kiara is the madame of Kildare island and JJ is the pirate captain that she does not want to love.
Relationships: JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	deep water (a little deeper than you thought)

**Author's Note:**

> The long awaited pirate au. I got there in the end y'all.
> 
> I feel like Sara deserves an co-author credit for her amazing betaing with the amount she rewrote and added to make this mess of a fic flow so much better and become coherent. Also, if anything sounds beautifully poetic, thank Jax for that. 
> 
> I call this my Black Sails AU mainly because Kiara's life is pretty much modeled after Max and well, imagine JJ dressed like Charles Vane. If you have not watched Black Sails please go correct that.
> 
> Titles is from Perfect Darkness by Fink and is a total vibe. Pretty much anything by Fink is the soundtrack for this fic.

Kiara pushes back into the pillows, taming her beating heart and heavy breaths as her body twitches, coming down from her high. The crisp white sheets move against her bare skin as Amber moves from under them, poking her head out. The young girl bites her bottom lip and flashes Kiara a sultry smile, one that she knows all too well. It’s one she’s used a million times before, the one taught to all the girls. It’s the one that keeps the men coming back, makes them forget that it's all about money, makes them think that there’s more. It works every time.

Just not on her. 

She sees right through it, and all it does is make her want to roll her eyes and wonder why she keeps putting up with the girl. Amber moves up her body and leans in to kiss her, a move Kiara quickly deflects by turning her head with pursed lips, and then shifting out of bed.

Grabbing her robe and wrapping it around herself, Kie moves over to her vanity on the other side of the room. She starts on her hair, hoping Amber will get the message and leave. Predictably, she doesn’t. Kiara spares a glance at her through the mirror. Behind her, Amber is unmoving, wrapped up in the sheets on the bed. It’s time she switched girls, she knows. Amber is skilled, sure, but barely tolerable in every other aspect. The girl has never seemed to fully grasp the concept of their arrangement – she’s not there out of want, or interest. Rather, Kiara needs good stress relief, and she’s looking to get her needs catered to from someone that she doesn’t owe anything to after, at least nothing more than a fee. Someone who won’t try to get to know her, someone who can’t distract her, someone who won’t spell her destruction if she lets them too close.

Someone who isn’t _him._

Turning in her seat, she glares at Amber. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting to work?’

The girl’s face falters. Then she flashes a polite, tight-lipped smile before hastily getting dressed and leaving the room. Kiara doesn’t spare her a second glance as she goes.

It’s different, being in charge. It’s better, that’s for sure. She actually has some power now, some control of her life – she’s finally her own person. Her body isn’t just an object of lust for whatever dirty, rum-soaked pirate that wanders through the doors with a couple of silver pieces to claim her as his own. 

It’s lonely, though, and it’s the worst part. She isn’t one of the girls anymore, acutely aware of how her authority over them draws a boundary between her and the rest of them. And the lonelier she gets, the more she craves the company of one man in particular. That’s the point of Amber. Or Katherine. Or whatever girl that she welcomes into her bed. They are supposed to make her feel less lonely, less isolated, _less._ But more often than not, she's left yearning for his touch instead of theirs, for his warm, sun-kissed skin pushed up against hers. The stark difference makes his absence more obvious, the reluctant longing ever more powerful.

It has been four months since he and his crew last made port on Kildare. She doesn’t know where they’ve gone, if they will return. Sometimes she hopes they don’t. Maybe they’ve succumbed to the sea, and she no longer has to worry about him stealing her away like some precious prize. Sometimes, the mere thought of never seeing him again leaves her with an ache in her chest that she can’t ignore. 

The whore house is already in full swing by the time she emerges from her room. Most of the men like to make good use of every hour on land they have before setting sail once more. She’s halfway down the stairs when she stops in her tracks, spying a group of men gathered around a table, drinking merrily as they clumsily feel up some of the girls, coming to an arrangement before heading upstairs. The scene is typical for her establishment, one that usually pleases her because it means one thing: profits. But today, the same sight elicits something different in her, bringing a fluster to her chest. 

She recognises the men immediately as crew members of _The Pogue_. The ship must have come into port during the night, or even the early hours of the morning, and unsurprisingly their first stop upon arrival had been the brothel. She tries her best to ignore the stupid cartwheel her heart is doing in her chest, the sense of dread mixed with excitement. With a deep breath, she continues down the stairs and makes her way through the crowd, feigning a poise she doesn’t feel. She is Kiara Carrera, and she owns this god-forsaken place.

It’s like she can sense his presence before she even sees him. She just _knows_ he’s there. Maybe it’s part of some cosmic connection they have. Or maybe it’s just because she knows _The Pogue_ is back, and ever since the first time they met, years ago now, it’s what he’s done – come here. But she thinks it’s more than that, like her body is tuned to his, like the moon pulling the tide. Pushing it away only to pull it close again. She can’t deny it, the way he draws her in and sets her on fire, the way he feels like a whirlpool, pulling her down, deeper than she ever intended to go. 

It’s something that both excites and terrifies her, a constant push and pull between the two extremes.

She’d only been working on the island for a couple weeks when she first met Captain JJ Maybank of _The Pogue_. His loyal crew had thought of no better way to congratulate their newly appointed leader than treating him to a night with the new girl. He seemed so comfortable as she took his hand and led him upstairs, like he had done this countless times before. But of course, so had she.

Somehow, this man was different. He wasn’t like those countless other times. How fucking cliché is that? But he wasn’t. Most men are rough and desperate after weeks at sea, while his touch was slow and gentle. It was the way he took his time, invested in her pleasure as well as his own – like he wasn’t looking for the fake moans, or to push her head down until there were tears streaming down her face because it felt good for him. This man made her laugh, and asked her about herself – despite her insistence that she was whoever he wanted her to be. He treated her like she was a person of note, like he wanted to know everything about her. And his smile lit up the whole fucking room. 

When it had been time for him to leave, her job done and money in her hand, she found herself not wanting him to go. 

From that point on, she had been equally drawn to and terrified by him. And when he kept coming back, the connection only became harder to ignore. Sometimes, he would pay for extra time, just so they could lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing, things far more intimate than simply _fucking_.

There’s been nights when she invites him into her room long after she’s finished working. Other times she’s told him she doesn't want to see him ever again. When he first told her he loved her, she pushed him off her, insisting over her pounding heart that he was just another client to her. He’d left for months after that, and everyday she ached for him, wishing she had the courage to say it back.

He’s never cared. That she didn’t say it back. That she doesn’t, still. Most times, she thinks he is more sure of her love than she is. He keeps telling her, his heart on his sleeve. Yells it at her when they fight and she swears she hates him. Whispers it against her skin in the dead of night when she allows herself a moment of weakness in his arms. Says it with a cocky smirk as she tries to act like she detests his mere existence. They both know she doesn’t – far from it. 

It’s been almost a year since she told him that she would not see him again. She calmly informed him she was the new Madame, now. She wasn’t a whore anymore, no longer there for the pleasure of pirates when they made port, no longer an object for them to rent for the night. She can still remember the way his face dropped, the way he tried to fight her on it. Insisting that they had been more than that in a long time, desperately begging her not to do this, not to push him away now when this could be a chance for _them._

It had only taken two days for her to row out into the bay and slip into his quarters. 

(Against her better judgment.) 

She can’t deny the pull, no matter how much she wants to.

Ever since then it has been the continuous push and pull between them. Kiara ever caught in this battle of her mind and her heart. Her entire body screaming at her to give into him, to let herself love. While her head tells her that it could only end in disaster. 

‘Fancy seeing you here.’

He pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against and takes a few steps towards her as she enters the courtyard. His hair is shaggy, longer than she last saw him – slightly unkempt, after months at sea. He pushes it back with his fingers as it falls in front of his eyes, and something inside her stirs as she catches the silver of his rings glinting in the sunlight. 

‘A real shock. Considering I work here.’ She rolls her eyes and tries to sidestep him, but his body is blocking her way. She doesn’t want to deal with him right now, she’s got a business to run, she can’t be getting distracted by ocean coloured eyes and smooth words. 

‘Okay. Maybe not so much of a coincidence.’ His smile is soft and his eyes almost twinkle. He runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip and leans in. ‘Maybe I just wanted to see you.’

Her head tilts to the side in an almost mocking confusion, eyebrows pulled together. ‘And why’s that?’

‘I’ve been gone a while now. A man craves some company, ya know?’ he plays along. Lets her pretend that she doesn’t know what this is. Like this isn’t more than she needs it to be. Because of course he does. Because he always does.

‘Oh,’ she says, smiling sweetly, the same insincere expression she uses on all her customers. ‘Well, in that case, I’d be happy to arrange for one of the girls to take care of your needs.’

His face falters and he squints slightly, like he’s trying to weigh up if she’s bluffing or not. She’s not even sure if she is. 

He doesn’t respond, so she keeps going. 

‘Might I suggest Clementine. She's new, and a real talent when it comes to knots.’ Her eyes meet his, and she narrows them slightly, putting a challenge there, letting it sink into her tone. ‘I know how much you like to be tied up.’

He takes a step forward and suddenly she feels her back hit the wall. His arm comes to rest above her head, and she hopes to god no one is too focussed on them. Her authority isn’t going to last long if they see her getting all flustered because of some patron. 

‘You know I only like that when you do it.’ He flashes her a grin and reaches up to pull at one of her curls. ‘So if you’re offering…’

She steadies her gaze and lifts her chin up. 

‘I don't do that anymore, Captain. You know that.’ 

_Firm, sure, strong._

‘What? Have sex?’ He lets out a soft chuckle and leans in closer, his fingers coming to lightly press under her chin. ‘You didn’t have to go celibate just ‘cause I was gone, darling.’

_Hard voice, don’t relent._

‘Get paid for it.’

His tongue flicks out again. He smirks. Leans in once more. Now his lips are ghosting over hers, ready to kiss her with less than a fraction of a movement. He thinks - _knows_ \- he’s wearing her down. He’s had years of practice in knowing just how to make her give in to temptation. 

‘I wasn’t offering to pay,’ he whispers, their lips brushing with the words.

Her hand finds his chest, and she pushes him back while she still has the willpower to do so.

She swallows slowly, taking her time to form her words so they don’t come out as shaky as she feels right now. ‘Then maybe you shouldn’t have come to a whore house.’

He lets out an exasperated sigh, his head dropping down, seeming to be losing patience with her resistance. 

‘Kiara.’ He pauses for a moment and then looks back up at her, his playful demeanor vanished. ‘Do you think we can stop this game?’

‘What game would that be?’

‘The one where you pretend you aren’t happy to see me.’ 

He could've said it like a joke, or a full-on innuendo. With a crooked grin and a shining eyes, like he’s so good at, like he always does. She could have handled that. She’s used to that. She can roll her eyes and brush him off. This, not so much. 

Because he says it in earnest. His eyes soft, like he’s pleading with her. Like he needs her to finally admit it, to reassure him that it’s not all in his head and perhaps his time away has warped his memory of them. That he’s not the only one who feels this crazy pull between them. And she can’t deal with that.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Stone cold, she lies through her teeth. She moves to step away from him, but he places a hand on her hip. It’s not hard or forceful, but the simple feel of him through the layers of her dress manages to stop her in her tracks.

Biting down her bottom lip, she refuses to meet his eye, looking down at the floor between them as she fights to steady her face.

‘Kiara.’ Her name falls out of his mouth like a breath, and it consumes her. Her body shivers at the sound of it, at the amount of weight and emotion and implication he manages to pour into one single word.

It terrifies her. 

Letting out a slow, steadying breath, she meets his eyes, hoping they don’t give her away. She just wants him gone. She wants to push him away. It’s too much. He’s not even been back for a day, and he’s already got to her. She’s already vulnerable, exposed.

She fixes him a hard glare when she looks up again, emotionless and sure. ‘It’s not my fault you fell in love with a whore.’

His jaw tightens. ‘Can you not say it like that?’

His hand drops from her side, and he takes the smallest step away from her. 

She ignores how cold and empty she feels when he does so. Instead she steadies herself, ready to bite.

‘Surely you know it’s all an act. Get you to come back, to spend more money.’ It’s more than that. They both know it is, and that’s the issue.

He swallows thickly, too slow to hide the hurt from his face, but she doesn't let it stop her.

‘It’s a job. It’s what we’re paid to do.’

It’s a bold-faced lie. Complete bullshit. It's been a long time since he’s paid for her company, and that’s not just because he’s been away. 

‘Your job is lust, not love,’ he challenges, not letting her get out of it that easily. 

‘Men don’t know the difference.’

She moves to slide out from him, but his hand comes up in an instant, wrapping tight around her arm. 

‘Trust me. They do,’ he says, his stare unwavering and boring into her.

Her breath falters, and all she can do is stare back. God, she wants to kiss him, even as she wishes she didn’t. 

No matter how many times he does it, his feelings always cloud her brain. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t pull back. Part of her admires how easily he can expose his heart to her; the other part of her wishes he wouldn’t. It would make keeping him away so much easier. 

It takes a couple of seconds for her to compose herself. 

‘If you’ll excuse me. I have a business to run.’

She needs to leave.

‘It would be greatly appreciated, if you don’t wish to indulge in any of our services today, that you vacate the establishment.’ All business. No emotion. It just makes it easier. 

She can’t fall into this again. She just can’t. 

‘You know, might as well send Clementine my way,’ he calls after her. She stops in her tracks and slowly looks back to him. He cocks an eyebrow at her and shrugs nonchalantly. ‘She sounds like fun.’

She meets his glare, steady, unwavering. Calls his bluff. If that’s even what it is. 

‘Right away, Sir,’ she says with a sharp smile, then turns and keeps walking. 

Clementine is at a table with two other men, working her charms, and Kiara snaps her fingers to grab her attention and then shoos her over towards JJ. She tries not to care when the girl's face lights up at the sight of him, just makes her way over to the bar to find some free girls for the men left behind. 

She grips the hard wood in her hands when she gets there, taking deep, steadying breaths, trying not to think about what’s likely happening behind her – and what will soon happen upstairs. When she risks a look over her shoulder, Clementine has her hands running over his chest, leaning in close to whisper dirty things in his ear. JJ’s eyes, however, look directly over the girl’s shoulder, staring straight at Kiara with a hard set to his jaw, like he’s daring her to stop him.

The thought crosses her mind for a moment, what it would feel like to stalk over to them, order Clementine away from him and drag him upstairs to her chamber instead.

Of course, she doesn’t do any such thing.

She takes a deep breath, calming her nerves, and pointedly stares at a different corner of the room, where two of her newest girls are clumsily learning the ropes on unsuspecting sailors. 

‘Ma’am, Mr Cameron's trying to get out of paying again,’ a voice shakes her out of her sulking.

Kiara rolls her eyes at the girl, who is looking expectantly at her. Typical. One of the most wealthy men on the island, and Rafe Cameron always seems to think he can worm his way out of paying just because of who he is. 

“Don’t worry, Emily,” she says in her best reassuring tone. “I’ll take care of it.”

And, just like that, she’s back. She’s got more important things to worry about than JJ Maybank and the ways he’s about to entertain himself. All that should matter is the money he, and countless like him, are about to spend. 

She doesn’t even notice when Clementine takes him upstairs. Certainly doesn’t see the way his eyes flit down to her before disappearing behind the door. 

***

She likes to think she is a strong-willed person. And she is. The things she’s been through in life, the things she has endured and overcome and worked her way through – there’s no way she could have done that without a strong will and an even stronger mind. 

That’s why it’s beyond her comprehension that all it takes is the dark of night and a glimpse of the bay from her balcony – and perhaps the unbearable blonde girl currently in her bed – for the sea to call her to it and for her to listen. That’s all it takes before she’s rowing out to the ship anchored off the beach. 

She flinches at the hand that appears above her as she’s climbing up the side of _The Pogue_. Relief washes over her when she identifies its owner: Pope Heyward, First Mate and Quartermaster. She reaches up and accepts his offer, letting him help her aboard. She likes Pope, he’s kind and soft, unlike most men she deals with. He’d come to visit her a couple times in the early days, but stopped quite quickly. They’ve never spoken of it, but she’s pretty sure the reason has to do with JJ.

Most of the crew knows about them, this is not the first time she’s found herself on their ship. Yet, it’s never stopped any of the other crew members who had an interest in her. She wonders, even, if perhaps for some of them that interest was more enticing _because_ of her and JJ. No matter how much his crew respect him, she’s sure there must be some level of satisfaction in taking your Captain’s – whatever she is to him. But she thinks that Pope and John B, the Boatswain, as JJ’s closest confidants probably know more of the intimate intricacies of their relationship and respect the fact that as his friends she is off limits to them.

‘You just lost me a week of rations.’ 

Kiara picks up her lantern from where she’s set it on the deck and pulls her coat tighter to her chest, suddenly very aware of the fact that it’s only that and the thin fabric of her night dress that separates her from the crisp night air.

‘How’s that?’

‘John B thought you’d be out tonight. I figured you’d have more self control.’

She purses her lips, not finding it nearly as amusing as Pope seems to. His smile falls awkwardly and he clears his throat. 

‘He’s in his quarters.’

With a nod in response, and without another word, she moves to the captain's quarters at the back of the boat. 

The door is unlocked, as it always is. She’s not sure if that’s something he does for her or if he never bothers with it. It makes a loud creak as it opens and then clangs against the frame when it closes again. The sound wakes JJ and he jolts up, a knife in his hand and extended out, ever on edge and alert. A moment later recognition washes over his face and he’s falling back down, the knife disappearing back to its home underneath the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches her as she deadbolts the door and moves towards him. She stops by the table in the centre of the room and places her lantern down before shrugging her coat off and draping it over the back of a chair. Next are her boots, silently slipping them off one at a time and letting them drop to the ground – JJ’s eyes trained on her, noting each and every movement. 

She extinguishes the lantern before reaching for the sleeves of her night dress, slowly dropping them off her shoulders and letting the thin fabric fall to the ground. The soft moonlight streaming through the windows the only light around them, Kiara can still see the way JJ responds to her, his Adam's apple bobbing in a thick swallow as he takes her in, as transfixed as he was the first time.

His arm lazily reaches out towards her, laying across the mattress. His fingers twitch in anticipation of her own reaching out for them, almost beaconing her over. She briefly hesitates, but there's very little room for playing hard to get after rowing out into the bay in the middle of the night and then stripping naked for a man.

He pulls the blankets back for her as she approaches, then lays them back over the both of them as she settles down, curling into his side and laying her head on his chest.

They lay in silence, JJ placing a few absent minded kisses into her hair, and let the sound of the waves and gentle rocking of the ship drown out their thoughts. Or at least she does.

If JJ is thinking about anything, she’s glad he’s not voicing it. Asking her why she’s here, what this means. She’s the master of mixed messages, and he’s almost a saint for letting her get away with it time and time again.

‘You know, Pope and John B are making bets on us?’ She breaks the silence with something easy, light hearted. 

‘Oh yeah? Who came out on top with that one?’

‘John B.’

He lets out a short laugh. ‘That’s gotta be a first.’

‘I wish they wouldn’t.’ It makes their relationship feel like some sideshow. It’s already complicated, confusing, enough for her without knowing they are getting entertainment, making a joke of it, behind the scenes.

JJ runs his hand over her hair, lets it drag down and trace her bare skin. ‘I’ll talk to them.’

She hums in acknowledgment of his offer, not speaking again, intimidated by the knowledge that if she does it will have to mean something, be about something. She doesn’t want that now, not yet. She wants to lay in his embrace, enjoy the warmth of his skin seeping into her. Listen to the steady thump of his heart under her head and let the soft brush of his fingers on her shoulders distract her from everything else. She wants to live in a single perfect moment with him, just for a little while longer, before reality creeps in and once again reminds her why she shouldn’t be here. Why she shouldn’t indulge in the simple pleasure of his company – a pleasure that makes her weak, vulnerable. And in her life nothing good can come from that, in her life that means death.

Especially with a man like JJ Maybank. A man whose life is as fickle as the tides, here one minutes, gone the next. He lives a life of risk and daring, and every time he leaves there is every chance he will not return. She knows the risk of getting too close, too comfortable with him, so she doesn’t. Or, at least, tries not to.

‘We’re setting sail again.’ His voice cuts through the peaceful silence, a perfect echo to her worries. ‘Tomorrow.’

Kiara shifts slightly, avoiding his eyes as she focuses on her fingertips tracing the soft skin of his chest.

‘Yeah?’ She takes a slow, steading breath, trying to repress the pit in her gut at the thought of him leaving her so soon. ‘What’s the next daring adventure for _The Pogue,_ Captain?’

JJ doesn’t respond immediately. He moves his hand up to grip her chin and shift her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes practically shine as they lock into hers. He wets his lips with his tongue before pressing them together, barely hiding the world's widest smile.

‘ _The Royal Merchant_.’

It takes her what feels like a full minute to process what he just said.

‘What?’ Kiara turns to lay on her stomach, propping herself up on his chest so she can look at him properly. 

_The Royal Merchant_. Sure, it’s something they’ve all known about, no self respecting pirate would not be aware of 4 million in gold floating around the open sea. The largest treasure galleon anyone’s ever seen, escorted by a Man Of War. No crew with a morsel of sense would even attempt to claim it as a prize.

‘That’s where we’ve been. Tracking down the schedule.’ He’s smiling now, truly smiling, overcome with pride. ‘We know exactly when and where it’s making port for maintenance. It’s going to be-’

‘You’re as _stupid_ as you look,’ she cuts him off, and his face falls. 

He shifts below her, pushing up on the pillows to sit up without pushing her off his chest. 

‘Why?’

‘ _The Royal Merchant_? Seriously? You actually think you can take that?’

‘Why not?’ Hurt flashes through his eyes at the mere idea she doesn’t trust in him.

Kiara shakes her head, unable to find the words to describe how obviously impossible this task is.

‘We have the schedule,’ he insists. ‘That gives us an advantage, they won’t be expecting it. Their guard will be down.’ He pauses and wets his lips, fixing a resolute gaze on her. ‘We can do this.’

Kiara rolls away from him, gripping the thin white sheets to her chest as she looks up at the ceiling, unwilling to look him in the eyes as she says, ‘Or die trying.’

Her heart dips at the thought, always a possibility, but never so sure as in this moment.

‘Or we come back with 4 million in gold. The biggest prize Kildare has ever seen.’

He pauses, and she can feel him move next to her. When she still doesn’t look at him he places his finger to the side of her chin and gently pulls her to face him. He’s laying on his side next to her and Kiara tentatively moves to mirror him.

‘We’d be set for life. Wouldn’t need anything else. Just go and live on some island far away from here, live off mangoes and lobsters.’ 

She shakes her head, pushing back from him. It sounds like a nice dream, but it’s just that. A dream. That is not a reality. That’s not the life she’s allowed to live.

‘You wouldn’t last.’

‘Why not?’ His eyes are wide with surprise, and yet it’s so glaringly obvious to her.

‘Without this crew? Without all the risk and adventure? You’d be bored in a month.’

He isn’t built for the quiet life. He’s full of fire and adventure. Settling for a life of ease, sitting around doing nothing? That’s not the life for him.

‘Not if you were with me,’ he whispers, soft and sure.

Kiara scoffs a laugh, doing her best to will herself not to fall for that. ‘I’m not giving up everything I have worked for here for you to just leave me behind once you realise I’m not enough to keep you there.’

‘You’re more than enough.’ He reaches up and holds the side of her face in his hand. Soft and gentle like he’s holding his world, his whole existence. Leaning forward, his forehead comes to rest against hers. ‘You’re all I want.’

The look in his eyes tells her it might be true. 

_Can he please stop looking at her like that?_

She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, she doesn’t even want to entertain the possibility, letting herself believe in the future he’s picturing for them. 

So she does what she does best, self destruct any good thing before she gets a chance to be disappointed.

‘You have fun with Clementine?’ she asks, cold and indifferent. Like she’s asking about the tide changes. Like the mere thought of it doesn’t tear her up inside. 

His face hardens, and he pulls away, his hand dropping back down to the mattress between them.

He must know what she’s doing. She does it all the time. When she is teetering on the edge of vulnerability, when she is moments away from letting herself care, she has to prove that she doesn’t. Has to make a point of it. He usually lets her, plays along with her dumb little game. Knowing pushing back makes it abundantly clear where her heart actually lies.

‘You were right, worth every penny.’

And then, in one sentence he’s won. The stupid charade she started is broken and she’s overcome with the deep-seated jealousy that hurts to the bone.

She rolls over. Faces away from him, giving him the hint that the conversion is over. 

There is the rustle of sheets behind her as he moves. Her body betrays her and she hopes that he’s coming in close to her, to push his bare chest against her back and pull her to him.

He doesn’t, and it makes her skin prickle with the cold despite the sheet covering her. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back over to him so she just stares out into the empty cabin, lit up by the soft blue of the moon.

‘Why are you here?’ he sighs after a moment of silence. 

She readjust her position, buying time. She doesn't quite understand it herself. ‘Do you want me to leave?’

He shifts again, then after a moment she feels his lips press between her shoulder blades.

‘No.’ A few more kisses, trailing up along her spine. ‘I want you to stay.’

His face nuzzles into her neck, lips ghosting over her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. ‘I want you to stay forever. To come with us.’

The words hold so much more weight than she is ready to deal with, to even think about right now. So she ignores the pull in her chest and deflects.

‘I’m sure the crew would love that,’ a humourless laugh leaves her mouth. ‘Having a live-in whore.’

His body goes tense behind her at her words. ‘You’re not a whore.’

 _Anymore._ It’s unspoken, but they are both very aware of the word left off the end of the sentence. It really wasn’t that long ago that she was free game for any man that had the money. And more than a few of those men are on this ship.

‘I’m sure they care deeply about the technicalities.’

Most of JJ’s crew are good men, but they’re still pirates. And a good man in the world of pirates means something completely different than back in true civilization. Out on the water certain courtesies just aren't extended. Especially to slaves, to whores. To women like her. 

‘I’d kill any man who tried to touch you.’ His fingertips trace along her side, over her hip and down her thigh. His touch is featherlight, like he’s trying to use it to tell her he loves her, to remind her that there are people in this world who will treat her with tenderness and care.

‘You start doing that and I can’t see your crew keeping you as captain much longer.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You do.’ He wouldn’t admit it, but his men mean everything to him. ‘You couldn’t live without this crew.’

His hand gips her hip and rolls her over, laying her on her back to look down at her. 

‘What I can’t live without is you.’

His eyes sparkle in the feeble moonlight, so beautiful and blue. She knows they will drown her one day, if she’s not careful. Pull her under and never let her come back up for air.

His hand gently runs along her skin, and his mere touch does things to her she can’t quite explain.

‘I have you. I don’t need anything else.’

She shakes her head slightly, avoiding his eyes. ‘You don’t have me.’ 

He does. They both know it. But she can’t admit it out loud, can’t let herself be that open with him. She won’t fall.

‘I do.’ His hand travels up, gives her nipple a tweak. It’s gone the next second, ignoring the way it hardens in response, no real intent behind the action. His fingertips trace back down, running over her stomach absentmindedly. ‘You’re mine.’

Dread runs down her body like a shiver. She pulls herself up, tilting her face to burn her eyes into his. 

‘I’m not yours.’

She means it this time. She’s not his. She’s no one’s but her own. She’s spent her life being an object to be passed around and she will never do that again. He should know that. If he knew her as well as he says he does, he would know that.

‘You are,’ he says, oblivious, a playful smile on his face. He leans down so close she can feel his breath against her lips, his strong, calloused hand over her nakes hip. ‘All mine.’

She’s shoving him away a second before he kisses her. JJ falls back on the bed, eyes wide with shock looking straight at her.

‘I’m not a whore.’ He blinks and goes to speak, but she cuts him off before he can. ‘I’m not a slave.’ His mouth closes shut and he swallows hard, realising his mistake. ‘I am not some object for you to own. Some possession for you to stake your claim over.’

He shakes his head. ‘You know that’s not what I meant.’ She doesn’t feel like acknowledging how pained he looks at his mistake. She doesn’t care right now. 

He reaches out to her but she pulls away, throwing the blankets off of her and stomping out of bed.

‘I don’t know why I came here.’

She stalks back over to the table to retrieve her clothes. In the corner of her eye, she catches JJ as he gets out of bed and follows her. 

‘You do.’ His voice is broken, not demanding. ‘Please stop running.’

He takes her dress from her hands grabbing her hips and pushing her up against the table. He steps forward so they are chest to chest, heat radiating between their bare skin. His hands grip the table either side of her, boxing her in, not letting her leave even if she could bring herself to. 

‘You know why you are here. We both do.’ His eyes bore into her and she’s left breathless, unable to speak, unable to move. 

‘And if you can’t say it, can’t admit it out loud. That’s fine. But stop pretending that you don’t know what this is.’

He’s never been like this with her before. Over all the years. He’ll tell her he loves her and let her brush him off, play along with her games and make jokes. He’s never been so explicit about what they are to each other, never stopped her from avoiding what she’s always so scared to admit. That she cares about him as much he does about her.

She averts her gaze, but his hand is quick to come under her chin, gently lifting her face towards him.

‘You’re right, I don’t own you,’ he says, soft but sure. ‘You’re not some treasure that I want to claim and show off.’

He pauses, gives her a moment to process his words. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and wishes she could muster the strength to look away.

‘But I belong to you. Every part of me is yours. Not because you claimed it, but because I gave it to you. Because I want to be yours and no one else's.’

That she’s never doubted. Every look, every touch, every _I love you_ is laced with pure, honest affection. She wants him to be hers, she wants him. 

‘I don’t want to own you, I just want you. I just want whatever part of you you are willing to give me,’ He pauses, letting the words sink in, making sure she’s heard them. ‘And I know you want me too. All the other bullshit doesn’t matter. We can work that out. Why can’t we just have this, just you and me?’

_Because if I let myself have a bit of you, it will never be enough until I have all of you._

‘It’s not-’

‘I know you don’t think-’ he cuts her off, ‘I know you are scared of this, of us. But I love you. And I just want to be with you. For us to just be us. For as long as we can, as much as you’ll let me.’

It feels like her stomach is in her throat. She wants to throw up and cry and tell him she loves him and for everything to be okay. For her to not feel this way.

But she does none of that, just stares back with watery eyes and tries to find the words. Even if she could speak, she’s not sure what she would want to say.

Tentatively, he moves forward and connects their lips. The first kiss in months and god how she’s missed his lips. They dance over hers, parting ever so slightly, just waiting - hoping - for her to reciprocate. She melts into him, how easy it is to pretend it’s just the two of them in that moment. Briefly she feels like all the problems, the worry, the heartbreak, doesn’t exist. Nothing does but the two of them.

He slowly pulls away and runs his hand over the side of her face, pushing her hair back and out of her face.

‘Just don’t go, okay?’ His eyes plead as much as his words, ‘Not tonight.’

Kiara leans her forehead against his and closes her eyes. She wishes she could will herself to leave, to pull away and never come back. To forget about him.

_She can’t._

She nods against him and then he’s taking her hand in his and pulling her back to bed.

Tucked up against his chest, she silently explores his skin with her touch like she’s done countless times before. She thinks of them curled up, sweat soaked and breathless, him telling her stories about the scars she’d trace with her fingertips. She has every single one of them memorised, every imperfection on his skin, every story to go with it. There’s a fresh one on his collar bone that she circles gently, she half expects him to start telling her the story when she does but he remains silent, basking in a sweet silence as much as hers. Maybe he will tell her one day, about that one and the others he’s sure to have gotten while he was gone. The more he’s sure to get when he leaves again at sunrise. Maybe she’ll never know, he’ll never return and she’ll be left wondering.

She’s almost asleep when his voice breaks though the gentle creaking on the boat as the water laps against the side.

‘Would you do it?’

Her eyes flutter open and she stares into the darkness, whispers the words into it. ‘Do what?’

‘Come with me.’ A beat. ‘Just the two of us.’

 _In a heartbeat._ She knows it. She wants to. If she knew he could actually leave this life behind. If she could feel safe and secure. There’s not a doubt in her mind that he loves her, that he would do that for her. But there’s always the part of her that will be haunted by her past. An ever constant fear that letting her guard down and actually thinking she could live the perfect life she wants will let it all fall back down, she would be powerless to her circumstances once more and have to comprise herself just to survive. If it was just them, if she could trust her own desires, if she could change the world. In a heartbeat.

‘Come back with 4 million in gold and we can talk.’

It’s an impossible task, to her it feels like saying no without actually having to close the door on the possibility of them, of true happiness.

Part of her thinks maybe he could do it.

‘Deal,’ he whispers into her hair, placing a kiss there.

It’s a promise of some kind. A pledge between the two of them that if they could, they would. And that seems good enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment :)
> 
> Come scream with me on [tumblr](https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/)


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